


Proof (We Are Real)

by crickets



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-30
Updated: 2007-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crickets/pseuds/crickets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam helps him to remember what it is to feel human, always ready to answer that call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proof (We Are Real)

**Author's Note:**

> [Original Post](http://crickets.livejournal.com/84010.html).

_And now it all makes sense._

In his dreams, he is falling, falling - _no, plunging_ \- into that deep dark nest of death that never comes. And then there's Cally. _Sweet Cally_, with her honesty and that small broken mouth. She is his savior, and somehow he feels real again.

_But this is not his truth._

He is a cylon. (_A frakking toaster._)

And _that_ is his truth.

Everything there is to know about Galen Tyrol can be summed up in that single, solitary sentence. There was once a father, a husband, a soldier. Dead now, all three. These things are no more. (_He can't let them be._)

It's late night on the hanger deck, and he is not alone - never alone anymore.

"Anders?" he calls out. There's no real point in pretending anymore.

_It's like this now._

Cally (whom he can no longer look in the eye) sleeps. He dreams, _like before_, of faces, of betrayal, and walking the plank - if there were such a thing on Galactica - traitors and truths. Only now, he knows what it all means.

So, he walks - the clink-clanking of his boots on metal ground reminding him that he was once a _part_ of this ship, that he once felt at home here, not like some infiltrator - an anomaly that doesn't belong - but a part of a family.

_Now_, Sam helps him to remember what it is to feel human, always ready to answer that call.

They meet in the shadows, like that first night. That first night there were no words, only silent prayers - gods or god, he supposes it never mattered much anyway. He's not a human. _They_ don't have souls. Only after are there questions. But with no answers to find, these questions give way to midnight games of pyramid, ambrosia on their tongues, salty kisses and hitching breaths.

Tonight is no different, Sam pressing him against the shelving in the supply closet, hips violent and purposeful, like maybe if he goes deep enough inside they'll find something hidden that will change what they both know never will.

Sam reaches around and closes over Galen's cock, who comes, spurting into Sam's hand, biting back a gasp. Sam only drives into him harder, wet mouth closing over Galen's sweat-slick pulse as he comes, heartbeats pounding in both their ears.

They're alive.

_They're alive._

_fin._


End file.
